


what happens in texas

by carefulren



Category: 9-1-1 (TV), 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Buck's sad and confused, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Russian Translation linked in the fic!, Set a few weeks after Lone Star S2 Ep 3, Sickfic, Slow Burn, TK and Carlos are actual best bros, Whump, and Christopher is unknowingly the best wingman, and a little impulsive, and after 911 S4 Ep 3, buddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: “And you think maybe you’re just really great friends with this guy, but then you start to think about how you can’t imagine what your life was really like before him, and you really don’t want to imagine what your life would be like without him.”“Holy shit,” Buck breathes, nodding still. “Yeah, all of that. How’d you…”“Have you considered that you may be bisexual, Buck?”Buck turns back to TK, frowning. “No? I mean, maybe?” He groans and leans forward to set his coffee mug down before he throws himself back against the couch, running his hands down his face. “I guess I haven’t really tried to label it? It’s not something I really thought about before—”“—Eddie?”(Buck's struggling with his feelings, so he does the only logical thing to do: he drives 20 hours to Texas after a 24-hour shift by himself to seek out help from some new friends.)
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 272
Kudos: 1310
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	1. welcome (back) to texas

**Author's Note:**

> Had a lovely reader translate the fic into Russian, and you can find the translation here! (https://ficbook.net/readfic/10403713/26773438)

Buck thumbs at the screen of his cell phone, eyes blurring faintly around the edges. He taps to his messages, working around a yawn as he types out a quick text.

_[To: Eddie] made it_

Even through the dirt and pollen prickled across his windshield, the apartment complex before him looks nice, modern, and somehow a little out of place. His phone buzzes in his hand, and he frowns when he spots Eddie’s name flicking across his notification bar. It’s late… Well, Buck thinks, looking at the red 3:16 AM time blinking at the corner of his jeep’s radio, it’s actually really early, and Eddie should definitely be asleep right now.

_[From: Eddie] Good. I was worried._

Buck doesn’t miss the faint blush that creeps up his cheeks, and yet, his eyes all but sink at Eddie’s text. The warmth flushing his cheeks is superficial; it doesn’t touch his eyes with bright colors, nor does it guide his lips into a smile. It just… hurts. His chest feels tight, and his heart feels too small against a towering, empty rib cage. Sighing, he taps back a message.

_[To: Eddie] you’re such a worrywart_

The sudden low rumble of thunder overhead scares Buck. He jumps, and his phone flies from his hand, hitting the passenger seat floor with a thump. “Shit,” he mutters, feeling around for it in the dark, snagging it only after it buzzes with a third message.

_[From: Eddie] how am I not supposed to worry when you tell me you’re taking a solo boy’s trip right after a 24-hour?_

_[From: Eddie] I’m pretty sure the single gray hair I found on my head is not because of Christopher._

_[From: Eddie] He’s bummed you didn’t take him, by the way._

Buck skims through the messages, shaking his head.

_[To: Eddie] tell Chris he’s my wingman for my next 10 trips_

_[To: Eddie] also go to sleep old man_

His phone lights up with a series of emojis, some of which don’t actually make sense, and Buck can’t help but laugh quietly to himself. He and Hen have been teaching Eddie to use emojis more in his texts so he doesn’t “sound like such an old geezer,” as Hen so nicely puts it, and since then, he’s been using every symbol he can get his hands on, unaware of how inappropriate many are. It’s cute, and that alone is enough to have Buck’s smile curving back downward, and the pain that was temporarily pushed back by harmless messages of angry face emojis comes back to the center of his chest, a heavy pressure he can’t shake. His eyes flick across Eddie’s final message.

_[From: Eddie] I can hear you groaning from here, so I’ll stop. Seriously though, get some rest, Buck. I’m pretty sure my old man heart can’t take another 20 hours of you driving back on no sleep._

_[To: Eddie] will do. night Eddie_

He locks his phone, and for a moment, he just stares at the raindrops drumming lightly against his windshield. They mix in with the dust and grime of a twenty-hour road trip, streaking down in inconsistent zigzags that blur the apartment building in front of him. Even enclosed in the car, he can feel the thickness of humidity pushing against his jeep, and he can only imagine how heavy it is when paired with the rain.

This is stupid, he thinks. He shouldn’t be here. Sure, he can give spontaneity a run for its money on many an occasion, but this? Twenty hours in a car on no sleep? Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to cut it, neither does the headache pounding dully against his temples. Still, he knows that if he didn’t come, he’d be spending yet another sleepless weekend alone, with only his thoughts twisting into daggers in his mind.

He works through his nerves, breathing low and deep, focusing on how wide his lungs can expand along his rib cage and not on the fact that he’s sitting in his jeep twenty hours from home ridiculously early in the morning in a different state.

“Come on, Buck,” he tells himself, shaking out his arms and rolling his shoulders. “Just go.” He follows his own verbal lead, hopping out of his jeep with a low gasp. The rain is somehow suffocatingly hot against his skin yet cold enough to have him trembling. He curses under his breath, wrapping his arms around himself as he jogs up to the apartment building, whipping past rooms until he stops on the number he’s read everyday in a text for the last three weeks.

He’s tucked under an awning, staring at the door that somehow seems far too large and daunting, just like everything else in this damn state. “Knock.” He rolls his eyes at his own voice and lifts his hand, rapping his knuckles quickly against the door.

It takes a moment for a light to flick on behind the closed blinds, and then Buck can hear locks clicking. His breath goes tight in his throat, stopping just before his lungs, and his shaking slows until he’s impossibly still on this foreign apartment step. The door opens, and he frowns, eyes briefly flicking from the tall, dark, and very shirtless man and back to the number on the door that he knows he got right.

“Hey, man. Can I help you?”

“Uh,” Buck drags out around a nervous laugh. He smiles sheepishly, and on instinct, rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I was looking for—”

“—Buck?”

The man’s face twists, his jaw tightening into a sharp line, and Buck leans over, looking past the man’s shoulder to see TK walking into what appears to be a combo living/dining room from a dark hallway. He looks tired but openly worried, and Buck can feel what little composure he’s hanging onto by a frayed thread crumbling.

“Woah, wait. This… This is Buck? This is the guy from LA you’ve been texting for weeks?”

TK rolls his eyes, but the furrow in his brow remains, so prominent against his pale face. He pads quickly across the room, squeezing into the doorway. “Stop, Carlos,” he mutters, sharing a quiet look with Carlos before he turns back to Buck, frown deep. “Buck? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Buck can only imagine how he must look: pale, drenched, tired, broken. He can feel his eyes stinging, and he swallows thickly. “Do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to hang out sometime if you’re ever in LA, and you told me you have a boyfriend?” The words are practically spilling from his tongue. He practiced. For twenty hours, he ran through just how exactly he planned to initiate this impromptu visit, but now that he’s living the scenario, his mind’s a jumbled, shaking mess.

“Uh, sure?” TK cocks his head to the side, and for a moment, he holds an expression that shows how lost he is, but then his face softens, and Buck can already hear the apology mixing in with recognition.

“Shit, Buck. I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

“—no, it’s…” Buck struggles with his words, his voice shaking. He laughs again, but the small huff of air cracks, and even though he wishes he can blame the sudden dampness on his cheeks on the rain dripping coldly from his hair, he knows his eyes are overflowing wells he can no longer control. “I just… I guess I’m just really confused, and… I wanted… You seem so confident, and I just—”

“—Hey, it’s okay,” TK tries softly. His eyes, Buck thinks, are endless pools of understanding that tug him in.

“Why don’t you come in?” Carlos starts, stepping aside. “You’re shivering.”

Buck jerks through a nod, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, and he follows TK and Carlos inside, arms wrapping back around his middle tightly, whether to warm himself or keep himself from breaking, he’s not too sure.

“Do you have any clothes to change into?” TK asks, frowning as he plucks at Buck’s wet, short-sleeve shirt that’s clinging to his torso.

“Ah, no,” Buck laughs weakly, eyes falling to the floor. “I didn’t really… I kind of just left?”

“Okay,” TK nods carefully, eyes holding onto Buck’s shaking frame for a moment. “Carlos, do you have something he can borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Buck watches as Carlos disappears into the dark hallway, and then, he just sort of checks out. He can feel that he’s being ushered into a bathroom, and he’s faintly aware that the bathroom is nice. It’s large, open, and for a moment, he’s mutely in awe. But then there’s dry clothes being shoved into his arms, and he stares blankly at them, frowning.

“Buck?”

Buck’s slow to pull his gaze from the clothes to TK, but when he does, TK’s still frowning, and Buck offers a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

TK’s nod is hesitant, matching his motions. He stops to pull open the mirror and rifle through it before he slips out of the bathroom, and Buck stares, tired and numb. He’s slow and shaky when removing his wet clothes, but when he’s slipping into dry clothes that, though are a tad short, fit him fairly well, he begins to feel more present and aware.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He paces the length of the bathroom, eyes catching onto his flushed, worn reflection. “Shit,” he repeats, louder, because he’s staring in a mirror in a bathroom in an apartment in freaking Texas.

“Hey, Buck? You okay?”

Buck turns to the knock on the door. “Y-yeah. Coming!” He shakes out his arms again, briefly bends over to splash some water on his face, and then he slips out of the bathroom, feeling an odd concoction of apologetic and embarrassed.

“Better?”

TK’s eyes are mutely narrow, almost to the point that Buck thinks he’s being looked through not at.

“Yeah, thanks.” He steps after TK until he’s dropping down onto the couch after TK motions toward it. “This place is… it’s really nice.”

TK opens his mouth to speak, but Carlos cutsin, slipping from the kitchen and masterfully balancing three coffee mugs between his two hands.

“Thanks. Coffee?”

“God, yes,” Buck all but groans, and he eagerly accepts the mug, his fingers stretching and wrapping around it, leeching the warmth. Carlos drops to the couch beside him, and Buck smiles softly, turning back to see TK sitting down on the edge of the coffee table across from him, his coffee going untouched.

“Look,” Buck starts, clearing his throat. “I’m really sorry. I should have called.” He takes a moment to see that both TK and Carlos are now sporting shirts, but their hair is still rumpled, and though both are alert and focused on him, he can still catch the hint of interrupted sleep in their eyes. “And I should have not shown up stupid early in the morning.”

“Well,” Carlos drags out, leaning back against the couch and propping his feet up on the table. “You’re here, so let’s hear it.”

“What?” Buck knows what, but the question’s quick to slip from his tongue.

“What you said at the door,” TK clarifies softly, leaning forward to pat Buck’s knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck pulls his gaze to the mug still wrapped tightly in his hands, his eyes watching the dark liquid, the steam still billowing faintly up, breaking at the rim. “How’d you know?”

“That I’m gay?” TK supplies, and Buck nods, keeping his gaze trained downward.

Laughing, TK leans back. “It’s kind of just something I always knew. I just never thought of women the same way my friends did.”

Frowning, Buck pulls his gaze up from the cup, working TK’s words around his head, new gears slotting into a stuttering machine. “What if I like women, and I thought I only liked women, but—”

“—then you met someone, who happens to be of the same sex, that you click with so well that it’s almost scary how right it feels?” Carlos interrupts, and Buck whips a wide gaze to him, nodding quickly.

“And you think maybe you’re just really great friends with this guy, but then you start to think about how you can’t imagine what your life was really like before him, and you really don’t want to imagine what your life would be like without him.”

“Holy shit,” Buck breathes, nodding still. “Yeah, all of that. How’d you…”

“Have you considered that you may be bisexual, Buck?”

Buck turns back to TK, frowning. “No? I mean, maybe?” He groans and leans forward to set his coffee mug down before he throws himself back against the couch, running his hands down his face. “I guess I haven’t really tried to label it? It’s not something I really thought about before—”

“—Eddie?”

Buck drops his hands to his lap, sighing, his entire body deflating against it. “What gave it away?”

“Every other text you send me has something to do with him or his son,” TK supplies, and Buck nods, a weak smile trying at his lips.

“Sorry about that.”

TK shrugs. “It’s cute. You two seem really close, and it’s obvious his son thinks the world of you.”

Buck smiles again, and though small, it feels natural, real, and he stops looking at the plush carpet as if it’s the most endearing thing in the world and pulls a slow gaze back up to meet TK’s present, encouraging eyes.

“You haven’t told him.”

It’s not a question, but Buck still shakes his head anyway. There isn’t a single inch of his entire being that doesn’t want to tell Eddie, that doesn’t want to open up to Eddie, to tell him that he’s the only constant that makes complete sense in his life. It’s maddening, enough, apparently, to drive twenty hours to Texas to confide in people he’s really only just met.

“I don’t know how,” he mutters, his voice cracking. His eyes are stinging again, and he doesn’t try to blink back the tears. “I’m so… _scared_ ,” he adds, his hands smoothing down his thighs. “I almost ruined everything between us once—I can’t… I don’t want to risk that again.”

“At some point,” Carlos starts, leaning forward and clapping a hand to Buck’s shoulder, “you’ll have to tell him. Not for him, but for you. You go on like this, and you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“Plus, while I don’t know Eddie personally, from what you say about him, it sounds like he’ll be understanding regardless of how he ends up really feeling.”

Buck’s gaze, though blurry, shifts between TK and Carlos, back and forth, two warm, kind faces that encompass him. He knows, deep down, that they’re right, that Eddie will understand no matter what because that’s just the type of person Eddie is: impossibly kind and endlessly forgiving. Still, since he’s accepted that something’s wrong, that his heart’s sporting some cuts and bruises that’ve been building over the years, he’s afraid. He’s scared of what will become of his own mind if he tells Eddie how he really feels because of all things he faces on a daily basis, his thoughts are the most frightening.

“I just,” he tries, a hushed sob ripping up his throat. “Sorry. I just… I’m not usually this—”

“—emotional?” Carlos finishes at the same time TK cuts in with “feverish?”

“What?”

“I second that,” Carlos starts, frowning. “What?”

TK grabs the ear thermometer he snagged from the bathroom minutes before, waving it before Buck’s face. “Your skin’s warm to the touch, and people aren’t usually chilled after running around in humid, Texas rain.” TK leans forward, pressing the thermometer into Buck’s right ear, and Buck can only frown, pressing the back of his hand to his own cheek and sluggishly equating his headache to the heat that brushes against his knuckles.

“101.4,” TK mutters when the thermometer beeps. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Buck cocks his head to the side. “It’s Saturday morning, and I worked a 24-hour Thursday to Friday, so Wednesday?”

“Jesus, Buck!”

“You drove here after a 24?” TK spits out, slipping to his feet and crossing his arms. “With a fever?”

Wincing, Buck makes to get to his feet, slipping until he’s perched only on the edge of the couch. He’s heard this disappointment before, always after he’s done something others deem too reckless, and he’s found the best remedy is to remove himself from the situation, to reflect alone, work through his own, warring thoughts. “Sorry, I’ll go—”

“—what?” TK stammers at the same time Carlos almost growls “you most certainly will not.”

Buck blinks slowly. “Sorry, I’m confused?”

“Buck, you’re definitely not leaving this apartment to venture out into a state you’re unfamiliar in with a fever.” TK softens his tone, and his expression follows suit. “Sorry for yelling; we’re just worried.”

“Oh,” Buck mutters, his lips rounding. “I’m probably just tired.”

“I wonder why,” Carlos teases, and Buck laughs around a yawn.

“Are you guys sure, though? I can find a hotel—”

“—Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” TK cocks a brow, and Buck smiles, sheepish and small but real.

In minutes, he’s set up on the couch with blankets and medicine already pumping into his system, and in the short time it’s taken to get him settled, he must have thanked the two, at least, forty times, stopping only when Carlos slammed a pillow into his face. He assured the two, repeatedly, that he’d wake them if he feels worse, and once they were sure he wasn’t lying, they slipped off to the bedroom, leaving Buck alone.

It’s nearing four in the morning, and Buck’s already nodding off, the weight of exhaustion and the heat of the fever pulling him down, but when his phone begins buzzing, he jerks forward, squinting at the name: Eddie’s (Dumb) Landline.

Eddie doesn’t call from the landline; he specifically calls from his cell phone. Christopher however… Buck can’t press the answer button fast enough.

“Chris? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is your dad okay?”

_“Hi, Buck.”_

“Hey, Bud,” Buck says, voice tight, worried. “What’s going on?”

_“I had another nightmare.”_

Buck’s face falls, and he gnaws lightly at his lower lip. “Yeah? How come you didn’t wake your dad?”

_“He’s tired. He said you’re on a trip.”_

“Ah, yeah,” Buck mutters, smiling softly. “I drove to Texas to visit some friends.”

_“How come you didn’t take me?”_

“Because,” Buck draws out, “I had to make sure they were prepared to meet the single coolest person on the planet.” Christopher laughs on the other line, and then he tries to hush himself, mumbling how he has to be quiet, and Buck smiles wider.

“You should go back to bed, Chris. It’s really late. Remember what we talked about: you’re stronger than any nightmare.”

_“I’m stronger than any nightmare,”_ Chris parrots back, and Buck nods, more to himself.

_“Night, Buck. Love you.”_

Though Buck’s heard it countless times, hearing Chris so openly express himself to Buck never ceases to catch Buck’s breath, to spread warmth across his chest, press band aids against wounds only he can see.

“Love you too, Christopher.”


	2. he didn't know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the first chapter has been overwhelming, and I'm just really happy you all are enjoying this small brain child I've created to cope with ✨feelings✨

_[From: Buck] will do. night Eddie_

Eddie drops down atop his bed, exhausted, the adrenaline that’s been building for the last twenty hours finally waning, leaving him bone tired. He knows Buck’s an adult, and theoretically, Buck should be able to take care of himself because he’s just that, an adult. But, in the two years Eddie’s been with the 118, he’s learned, through rough chapters that often end on cliff hangers, that Buck’s not always in charge of his own narrative, and as a result, he gets hurt. A lot. And it’s those repressed memories, some much larger and harder to work around then others, that have Eddie staying up for twenty hours, to wound up and worried, until he’s positive, deep enough in his gut, that Buck’s okay.

It’s only one text, and, if he’s being honest with himself, it’s quaint and passive and very much not like Buck, as he’s gotten used to Buck’s over-the-top texting filled with exclamation points and emojis, but it’s still what he wanted to read.

No, it’s what he needed to read.

Though it’s one very short text, the brevity probably due to Buck’s own exhaustion, it’s enough, and Eddie clings to that muted feeling of resolve as he nods off.

He dreams of the job.

_He’s at an amusement park, having been literally dropped onto the scene. He’s disoriented, and it takes far too long to come to terms with his surroundings. At first, everything appears normal, but then he hears the screaming, and his gaze follows the sounds, his muscles being pulled toward it. It’s a child, a young boy, and he’s screaming loudly for his dad. Eddie’s moving toward him, but his legs are suddenly trapped in mud that’s thick enough to bring pain to his legs._

_“Dad!”_

_Eddie muscles are burning, but he presses forward, stopping when he spots Buck sat on a park bench close to the child. Buck’s not reacting to the scene, and Eddie frowns. “Buck!”_

_Buck lifts his head, and there are tears in his eyes. His face is breaking, physical pieces chipped and falling toward the ground._

_“Dad!”_

_Eddie’s torn between picking up Buck’s pieces and comforting the small boy who’s in clear distress, and all the while, the mud’s growing thicker, cementing him in place_ , _testing his balance._

_“Dad!”_

_“Eddie?”_

_“Dad!”_

_“Eddie?”_

_Eddie’s gaze shifts between the two. Buck’s voice is breaking, mirroring the spiderweb cracking across his face, and the child’s face is starting to melt away into something else, someone else._

“Dad.”

Eddie jerks forward with a rough gasp that swells deep within his lungs, and for a moment, he’s still in his dream. He can still see Buck falling apart before him, dark pieces so out of place against loud, bright roller coasters, but then Christopher’s tapping at his leg, his tether back to the present, and Eddie forces his breathing to slow, sucking in deeper, steadier breaths.

It’s light out, and Eddie feels that he’s not slept more than a few hours. One glance at his phone tells him he’s only been out around 4 hours. It’s early Saturday morning, and normally Christopher sleeps in until 8. Eddie twists toward him, noting the small scrunch of his nose, a look Eddie’s learned means he’s okay but something’s happening that doesn’t fit in with his schedule.

“Chris, bud, what’s up?” He asks, his voice thick with interrupted sleep, and Christopher cocks his head to side.

“Aunt Maddie’s at the door.”

Eddie blinks slowly, face slack. “What?”

“I woke up because I heard knocking at the door. I asked who was there, and she said Aunt Maddie.”

If Eddie’s gut wasn’t currently twisting slowly with a feeling that all but screams wrong, he would scold Christopher for going to the door first and not to him. He tucks that away in his mind with the promise to revisit later and slips out of his bed, forgetting he’s stripped down to just his boxers as he takes brief, sharp turns to the door, faintly aware that Christopher’s tagging along behind him.

He undoes the locks, and when he pulls the door open, he has questions burning at the tip of his tongue, but his words never make it up his throat and to his mouth because Maddie’s eyes are glassy with tears that threaten to fall. She’s the spitting image of anxious, phone tight in one hand, other hand smoothing rough, small circles over her stomach.

“Where’s Evan?”

Eddie’s stomach bottoms out, a cold rush of air pushing down atop him. He can count on one hand the amount of times Buck’s legal first name’s been used, and of the five times he’s been around to hear it, it’s never been good: Buck’s hurt, Buck’s in trouble, Buck’s being an idiot again, Buck’s reckless, Buck’s _hurt._

Frowning, he tilts his head and tries to swallow down what’s now panic knotting in his stomach. “He took a weekend trip.”

Maddie’s face flushes, and Eddie can’t determine if it’s anger or desperation.

“I know that, but _where_ , Eddie?”

Eddie opens his mouth, prepared to answer, to ease the situation, as he’s trained to do, but his lips snap shut. He doesn’t know where. To his knowledge, no one knows.

He tried to get Buck to talk, Hen and Chimney tried, Bobby tried, and Eddie tried again, and he didn’t stop trying. He remembers pestering Buck to at least tell him how long it would take to get to his secret destination, and when Buck said about twenty hours and informed that he would be leaving right after work, Eddie temporarily lost it, pulling Buck behind a ladder truck to lecture him about how stupid he is and how dangerous it is to drive twenty hours on no sleep.

In hindsight, he’s aware that his lecture appeared more as talking down to Buck, as not trusting Buck, but his concern manifests differently per person, and with Buck, after seeing Buck pull one too many reckless stunts that end in black and blue bruising or broken bones, his concern tends to look like anger on the surface. He would have pushed it, too, had Buck not given him an almost pained look, had he not had muted desperation coloring his blue eyes. It was then that Eddie realized whatever this trip was, Buck seemed to need it badly, and Eddie’s not going to be the one to stand in the way of something Buck needs.

Sighing, he reaches across his chest to rub at one shoulder, now alarmingly aware of his bare chest and equally bare legs. “He didn’t say where—just that he needed to get out of LA for a bit.”

At this, Maddie’s composure cracks, and she gasps quietly, eyes now welling fully. Eddie starts toward her, one hand reaching out, but then Christopher’s patting his calf muscle, over and over.

“Dad?”

It takes a lot for Eddie to pull his gaze away from Maddie, wishing to linger, to dissect and find meaning behind her broken expression, but he does, dragging tired eyes to see Christopher frowning at him. He crouches down, leveling himself with his son. “Chris, bud, Aunt Maddie and I need to talk for a bit.”

“But, Dad—”

“—I’ll let you plug your Nintendo back in, just for a little bit.”

The small furrow of Christopher’s brows smooths out, and his eyebrows jerk upwards. He smiles, a gleeful laugh echoing around the room, and he calls out a quick thanks as he turns to the living room.

Eddie’s slow to get to his feet, and he steps aside, eyeing Maddie cautiously. “Come in. I’m going to go put some clothes on.” He turns on his heel, not waiting to see if Maddie accepted his invitation. He pads quickly to his room and cracks the door, leaving it ajar just enough to hear if Christopher needs him but also closing it enough so he can absently pace the length of his room, worrying a thumb nail.

Maybe, he thinks, Maddie’s just perfectly playing the role of the older sister, specifically of the overprotective older sister. He’s witnessed on many accounts Maddie’s borderline fierce protectiveness over Buck, and he admires it, liking the knowledge that Buck has people always in his corner. Still, her reaction alone is disconcerting, but Buck’s fine, Eddie reminds himself. Buck’s fine because he texted last night. He made it to his destination, he’ll rest, recharge, and he’ll be back by Monday because that’s just how Buck is.

Nodding to himself, he stops his pacing, pausing at his dresser. He rifles through the drawer, freezing when his hand brushes against a navy-blue Henley that definitely does not belong to him. Underneath the Henley lies a hideous, bright green shirt with a yellow and red cartoon character plastered on the front.

Eddie remembers when Buck brought the shirt over, having purchased one for Christopher and one for himself, insisting he wanted to match with the coolest person on the planet. The joy it brought Christopher had filled the room, and Eddie could only stare in awe at how much of the world Christopher sees in Buck. It was a kind gesture, one that Christopher didn’t stop talking about for weeks, and for a while, Eddie thought he’d have to cut the shirt off of Christopher with how much he wore it.

He smiles faintly, the memory fond in his mind, one he goes back to a lot.

Buck’s fine, he reminds himself once more, shaking his head back to the present and snagging a long-sleeve, black shirt. He slips it on and briefly debates on pants before he snags his jeans from the day before, abandoned on his bedroom floor after he ripped them off the second Buck texted that he made it, eager, at the time, to finally sleep.

Once he’s clothed and has his phone in hand, he steps out of the room, breathing coolly, repeating the single mantra in his head: Buck is fine. He steps into the kitchen to see Maddie seated and staring hard at her phone, sniffling quietly. She looks up when he walks in, and he opts to stand, to show Maddie through easy posture that Buck is fine. He leans against the counter, arms crossed.

“Buck texted around 3 AM,” he starts. “He told me he made it.”

While Maddie’s face softens just a fraction, Eddie can still tell she’s teetering the edge, if her white-knuckle grip on her phone is anything to go by.

“He texted me, too, around 1, to tell me he was close, but I haven’t heard from him since. Chimney hasn’t heard from him since he left.”

“He’s probably sleeping,” Eddie tries, hoping Buck’s sleeping at least. He considers lingering on the fact that Buck apparently hasn’t told anyone else of the 118 that he arrived safely, but he pushes the flick of concern aside, assuming, yet again, that Buck was too exhausted to fire off multiple texts and probably figured Eddie would share the news.

“Did he really not say anything to you? I mean, I don’t understand what the secret is? He didn’t take his overnight bag, so I’m having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that he actually planned this trip out,” Maddie pause around a ragged breath, eyes casting back down to her phone. “He even turned his location off on his phone.”

This, Eddie thinks, is far more unsettling than it should be. He checks his own phone, confirming Maddie’s statement, and the frown that pulls at his lips is deep.

Ever since the tsunami, Buck’s shared his location with him and with Maddie. At first, Eddie found the constant pings alerting him of Buck’s whereabouts annoying, but slowly, he found that he relied on them, that he felt oddly secure knowing where Buck was, and now that he can’t just make a few taps on his phone to see where Buck is, he grows cold all over, and his mantra that Buck is fine is beginning to falter.

“He really didn’t say anything,” Eddie confirms, voice low. “I tried to get information out of him, but he just… He really seemed like he needed this trip. I wanted to respect his privacy.”

“Of course he needs it,” Maddie mutters weakly, slipping from the chair to pace the length of Eddie’s kitchen, one hand smoothing over the side of her stomach while the other still clutches her phone like a lifeline. “I mean, why wouldn’t he? He’s been through so much over the last few years, with Abby, his leg,” she pauses, shaking her head, “the lawsuit. And now he has his virtual therapy, and—” Her phone beeps, and she glances at it quickly, face falling as she reads her text. “Shit, I have a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes, but how am I supposed to focus on that when Evan’s who the hell knows where probably hurting—”

Eddie’s struggling to follow her words because his mind only wants to chase one single word: therapy. It’s large and growing within his mind, pressing against his brain, loud and blaring, and he can’t wrap any other thought around it. It’s short-circuiting his inner workings, making it impossible to think about anything other than this: Buck’s in therapy.

“Wait, Maddie,” he starts, pressing off the counter and catching her hands mid-pace. Her breathless, jumbled speaking cuts off, and she looks at him, brown eyes so wide and so scared.

“Therapy?” Despite how big the word is in his mind, it’s so unbelievably small coming off his voice, and Maddie nods, her brows furrowed.

“He didn’t tell you?” She pulls away from him. “I don’t understand. He tells you everything, doesn’t he?”

Eddie thought Buck did, and vice versa for that matter. That’s just how their relationship is, glued at the hip, two characters penned into the same novel. It’s unlike any relationship Eddie’s had. He can read Buck by look alone, can speak with Buck through his gaze, and up until ten seconds ago, knew every single detail about Buck.

He shakes his head, backing away from Maddie, hitting the table behind him. “Is it a department therapist?” He knows the answer, but he still has to ask; he has to hear it.

“No. He’s… He said he’s sad, and he’s lonely, and it’s something I put in his mind that he couldn’t shake.” Her voice cracks, and Eddie has to sink into a chair because his legs are beginning to shake, and his mind’s whipping around so fast, he’s dizzy.

“Okay,” he starts, breathing heavy, nodding more to himself. “Okay, so you think he’s gone off to—”

“—no!” Maddie shouts, a silent apology already spreading across her face. “Sorry, no. He wouldn’t. He just,” she sighs, dropping down into the chair across from Eddie. “When he told me, he told me because his therapist encouraged him to be more open about his feelings. So, I don’t think…” She doesn’t finish the thought, and Eddie doesn’t want her to.

“I just… He’s always been spontaneous, but this? I just want to know where he is.”

Eddie can’t agree more, and he reaches over, cupping one of her hands with his. “You should go to your appointment,” he starts, trying to find some semblance of calm, to ease himself into the mindset he carries while on the job despite feeling he’s seconds away from his heart breaking past his rib cage to rip out of his chest. “I’ll call him—figure out where he is and if he’s okay. You keep trying him too, okay? You’re his sister, and he loves you.”

The breath Maddie lets out is shaky, but she nods all the same. “If you hear from him, please tell me right away.” She gets to her feet, and Eddie’s at her side, hand to the small of her back as she walks to the door. “I’m sorry for barging in like this; it’s just—”

“—it’s Buck,” Eddie finishes, knowing the feeling all too well. “I get it.”

When Maddie leaves, and Eddie clicks the door shut, he turns until his back’s against the door, and he slides to the floor, muscles no longer willing to hold him up. He hits the floor with a thud, and for a moment, he tries to process, working around facts: Buck’s travelled somewhere roughly twenty hours from LA; Buck made it to his destination; Buck’s in therapy; Eddie didn’t know until five minutes ago that Buck’s in therapy.

He sighs through a trembling breath. How could he not have seen it? He and Buck consistently brag about their relationship, how they are two halves that make a whole, and yet, he didn’t know that Buck’s sought out therapy outside of the department because he’s feeling down and alone.

There’s so much of his morning to unbag, but all he can focus on is how he _didn’t know._

He calls Buck, and after four rings, he hears Buck’s annoying answer tone.

_“You’ve reached Evan Buckley; though, if you’re someone who calls me ‘Evan,’ you definitely won’t be getting a call back. Everyone else, I’ll get back to you when I’m not busy saving lives!”_

He ends the call, typing out a text instead.

_[To: Buck] Hey, are you okay?_

After exactly one minute and twenty-two seconds of trying to will the three dots indicating the recipient is responding through his narrow gaze alone, he tries again.

_[To: Buck] Look, I know you’re probably sleeping, and I know you’re probably fine, but Maddie’s worried about you._

_[To: Buck] I’m worried about you._

“Dad?”

Eddie didn’t hear Christopher pause his game nor did he hear Christopher shuffle into the kitchen, but he’s walking toward him now, his small face furrowed. “Are you and Aunt Maddie mad at Buck?”

“What? No, bud. Of course not. Why?” He reaches out his hands, and Christopher drops his small ones into Eddie’s.

“Because of the yelling.”

Eddie winces, his thumbs circling over Christopher’s hands. “Sorry, bud. We’re not mad at Buck—we’re just worried.” He considers his next words, opting to be open to Christopher for his son’s smart, intuitive even. “You see, Buck’s just a little sad right now.”

“Is that why we went to Texas?”

Eddie’s eyes grow wide, and he frowns sharply. “What? Have you talked to Buck?”

Christopher pulls his hands away, and he shuffles his feet lightly, eyes cast down to the floor. It does nothing to ease the tension taut in Eddie’s chest.

“I had a nightmare, and I called him. He told me he’s in Texas visiting friends. I know I’m not supposed to use the phone unless you’re watching, but I missed Buck.”

Eddie’s eyes are looking past Christopher, looking not at his house but Texas, at the friends they met, the bond Buck seemed to easily strike up with TK Strand of the 126.

“Dad? Are you mad at me?”

Blinking slowly, he shakes his head, pressing up on his knees and clapping both hands to Christopher’s shoulders, eyes darting to catch Christopher’s wandering gaze. “No, bud. I’m… Do you think you’d be okay staying with Carla for a few days?”

“Can I bring my Nintendo?”

Eddie nods, and he encourages Christopher to start packing as he gets to his feet, moving in a blur, following his heart’s guidance. He needs a plane ticket—he’s not going to drive because it will take too long, and he wants to see Buck sooner.

He needs to contact Carla, and Bobby—he should plan with Bobby in case he and Buck aren’t back by Monday. He should tell Hen and Chimney as well, just so they won’t worry. He also needs to secure a ride from the airport. He’s not sure he can reserve a rental with such short notice, but he thinks he may have that covered—at least, he hopes he does.

He sits himself in front of his laptop and starts searching for the quickest flights, pausing just long enough to fire off a text to Maddie.

_[To: Maddie] I know where Buck is, and I promise I’ll bring him back._

***

The Texas airport is annoyingly similar to LA’s—there are people wandering aimlessly, people stopping right in front of him to squint at signs, and to Eddie, they are all merely roadblocks keeping him from Buck. It takes every ounce of his willpower to not growl at them, to shout for them to move, and he’s forced to maneuver, sometimes a little roughly, around groups of bystanders, his bag clutched tightly in his hand.

“Diaz!”

Eddie jumps, and he turns toward the familiar southern drawl until he spots Judd waving at him. They meet halfway, and Judd claps him on the shoulder. “Easy, jumpy. Everything okay?”

Eddie’s not sure how to properly explain that his best friend’s hurting, that he didn’t know his best friend’s hurting, and he hopped on the first plane he could get on to be with his best friend because since he left, everything’s felt alarmingly wrong. He’s not sure there are words that can bring justice to the pang in his heart. He just wants to make sure Buck’s okay, just wants to have him back.

“Maybe,” he opts for instead. “Buck’s here, and his sister and I are worried about him. I think he’s with TK?”

Though Judd looks like he wants to, he doesn’t question further, only nodding. “If he’s with TK, he’s also with Carlos. It’s about forty-five minutes from here, so we better get a move on.”

Eddie follows Judd out of the airport, breath held tight in his lungs, and it’s not until he’s climbing into the passenger seat of Judd’s truck that he sighs loudly, breathing through some of the tension taut in his chest.

“You going to sigh like a fool the entire drive?”

“What?” Eddie looks to Judd, who’s backing out of his parking spot. “No, sorry.” He swallows back the urge to sigh once more, instead dragging his gaze to the passenger window.

“You do realize that Buck, who’s a firefighter, is with TK, another firefighter, and TK’s boyfriend Carlos, who happens to be a police officer, right? I’d bet good money that Buck’s as safe as can be.”

Eddie clings tightly to this knowledge. “He’s probably fine, and I’m probably just overreacting, but he drove here from LA right after a 24-hour, and I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He drove here after a 24?” Judd spits out, eyes briefly shifting to Eddie, and Eddie nods, tired.

“I knew he was a dumbass,” Judd hisses out. “It’s a good thing Carlos is there; otherwise, we’d be looking in ditches and jail cells for the other two idiots.”

Though Judd’s tone is light, Eddie can make out the way Judd’s hands tighten just a fraction around his steering wheel, and neither address it when Judd eases down onto the gas pedal a little harder.

Judd makes small talk for a while, reminiscing about their high school days, and while Eddie replies, his responses are lackluster, distracted, and soon into it, he’s digging out his phone and texting Buck, the conversation worryingly one-sided. He starts with words but soon shifts to emojis, knowing just how to jab at Buck’s nerves, hoping to get a rouse from him, unaware that Judd’s glancing between the road and his phone.

“Do you normally send eggplant emojis to Buck?”

“What? Yeah. I’m just going through my recent emojis.”

“Your recents, huh?”

“Yes?” Eddie cocks his head to the side. “Is something—”

“—nope. Have at it.”

***

It’s nearing evening when Judd and Eddie pull into an apartment complex parking lot, and it only takes a quick scan of the eyes for Eddie to spot a familiar vehicle, one he’s spent a lot of his own time in.

“That’s his jeep,” Eddie points toward Buck’s jeep parked in the lot of a nice apartment complex, and Judd pulls up beside it. The relief he feels just seeing Buck’s car is overwhelming, a physical testament that Buck did, in fact, make it to his destination in one piece and did not drive into a ditch because he fell asleep at the wheel.

The second Judd puts his truck into park, Eddie hops out, and he’s quick to follow Judd until their stopping before a door. For a moment, Eddie can only stare, trying to work around what he’s even going to say. After all of this, he’s yet to mentally draft dialogue appropriate for the situation, the entire time banking on his training to get him through it. But, he doesn’t want to pull Firefighter Diaz on Buck; he just wants to be Eddie—Eddie, who really misses Buck and Eddie, who’s sorry he didn’t realize that Buck’s been hurting.

“You plan on knocking, or are you planning on sizing up the door all night?”

Eddie flicks his gaze to Judd. Judd looks alert, albeit a little tired, and it’s then that Eddie realizes he’s offered little to no explanation to Judd. He called in a panic, asking if Judd could pick him up from an airport at a given time, and then he’s skirted the details. Through all of this, Judd’s been impossibly patient with him.

“Yeah, sorry.” He sucks in a deep breath and raps his knuckles on the door, catching faint shadows moving behind the closed blinds. He drops his hand when he hears locks clicking, and then the door’s being pulled open. It’s not TK, Eddie’s quick to note. He’s greeted to a sharp, dark gaze, and an equally dark frown.

“You must be Carlos,” Eddie starts. He makes to extend a hand, but the look on Carlos’ face isn’t all that inviting, so he forgoes the formalities he’s been raised with. 

“And you are—”

A second voice interrupts, cutting Carlos off. It’s one Eddie’s engraved in his mind, one so familiar to his ears, and the relief that hits Eddie is overwhelming. It captures his breath, presses into his lungs, and he leans to the side, looking past Carlos into the apartment.

“—Eddie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a little over 4k words of sap that i need, especially after tonight's episode.


	3. what happens in texas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, final chapter is here! This has been a journey (because I lost the first draft of this chapter, and then I restarted it 4 times before I was finally happy with the opening. Basically, I had the end scene planned in my head only, and I had to figure out, you know, everything leading up to that, lol). Thanks for coming on this journey with me! You guys really know how to make a girl's day with all the support!

For an endless second, Eddie doesn’t breathe; his lungs fail to take in air, to expand, breath stolen in a frozen moment. He can only look over Carlos’ shoulder to see Buck stumbling toward him, pale, shaky, face warring between surprise and concern, if the deep worry lines in his forehead contradicting his rounded pupils are anything to go by.

“Eddie?” Buck repeats, louder this time, closer, and Eddie finally sucks in a deep breath, lungs trembling with the need for air. He forces his eyes from eyes Buck’s face just long enough to share a brief, silent conversation with Carlos, hoping the desperation pooling in his eyes comes through as loud as it feels in his chest.

“Come in,” Carlos sighs, stepping aside.

Eddie slips into the apartment, only faintly remembering the manners that have been forced into his head for years just long enough to offer a quick nod to TK, who’s hovering a little too close to Buck, face hesitant, hands outstretched smally toward Buck.

“Eddie,” Buck says, stronger this time, and Eddie knows this tone all too well, the gravel laced within his lower pitch, the way he says Eddie’s name through clenched teeth. It’s his way of breaking past barriers, commanding a room, and Eddie walks forward until he’s just before Buck, the tips of his boots bumping lightly into Buck’s socked feet.

Eddie doesn’t recognize Buck’s clothes. They’re a tad short on him, a little snug around the biceps and thighs. He wants to focus on the out-of-place clothing and not on the way Buck’s bright eyes vastly contradict his pale, worn face. Yet, all he can see his exhaustion stretched taut across Buck’s face. There’s something else mixed in it, Eddie thinks, something that goes beyond the concoction of fatigue, surprise, and concern, and it’s that undetermined something that has Eddie moving.

“Eddie, what are you doing here—”

Eddie leans forward, slips one hand to the back of Buck’s neck, and tugs him toward him, embracing him, pulling until Buck’s flush against his chest. He sighs deeply, more so when Buck’s arms lace around his waist and when Buck seems to relax against him. Buck’s warm against him, his breath hot against the back of his neck, and it’s exactly what Eddie needs to redistribute the anxiety that’s been pooling tight in his gut for hours now. There’s a lot to work through, too much to discuss, but right now, Buck’s heart is thumping against his chest, and that’s all he needs.

“Are you okay?” He asks when Buck pulls away from the hug, takes a stumbled step back, and frowns sharply at him.

“Are you?” Buck fires back, and Eddie waits as patiently as he can manage while Buck’s eyes scan thoroughly across Eddie, something both have grown accustomed to doing after rough calls.

“I mean, you’re here,” Buck clarifies after a moment, arms crossing. “In Texas. Somehow knowing exactly where I would be.”

Eddie presses his lips together, swallows back the deep-rooted frustration that sparks hot in his chest, and breathes through a calculated sigh. A lecture, he thinks, is not going to help their situation in the slightest, and the last thing he wants to do is back Buck into a corner and undermine his feelings, or make Buck feel worse by scolding him for making him go mad enough with worry, he hopped on the first flight he could get just to make sure Buck was okay.

“You told the one person who doesn’t keep secrets from me.” Eddie watches as Buck’s face scrunches up before it falls slack, his mouth forming into a small ‘oh’ shape.

“I told Christopher.”

“You told Christopher,” Eddie agrees, nodding, his own eyes dragging across Buck, pausing on the flush to Buck’s cheeks. “Are you okay?” He repeats, firm, and as Buck’s gaze slips to the floor, Eddie doesn’t miss the way Buck’s hands tighten just a fraction around his arms.

“He’s been running a low-grade fever since he got here,” TK offers, voice soft, worry clear in his tone, and Eddie rips a quick gaze to TK, brows raising, encouraging for more information.

“Probably just lack of sleep,” TK adds. “He’s just a little weak right now—”

“—I’m fine,” Buck argues, interrupting, and Eddie slips a slow gaze back to Buck.

“Are you?” he asks at the same time Judd mutters “dumbass” from behind him.

“Nice to see you too, Judd,” Buck mutters, and Judd slips beside Eddie, reaching over to press the back of his hand to Buck’s cheek.

“Maybe try the whole ‘I’m fine’ thing again when you don’t look like you’re about to keel over.” Judd pulls his hand back, and Eddie watches the frown play at Judd’s lips, small but noticeable.

“Buck,” Eddie tries again, but Buck only sighs deeply, his shoulders visibly sinking, and he turns back toward the couch, ignoring TK’s hand brushing against his shoulder.

Eddie rubs at his own shoulder, conflicted, worried, and he jumps slightly when Judd claps him on the shoulder.

“Why don’t give these two a minute?” Judd asks quietly, looking over Eddie’s shoulder at TK, and though seemingly reluctant, TK nods, muttering about dinner as he drags Carlos into the kitchen, Judd following close behind.

Eddie’s one to read a room rather quickly, and he can feel there’s something unspoken heavy in the air. If he had to guess, he’d say Buck’s probably told TK and Carlos about the therapy, opening up to them, and it hits Eddie harder than he expects. He wishes he knew why Buck didn’t confide in him, why Buck felt he had to drive a dangerous 20 hours to a different state when he could have very easily driven the 10 minutes to his house. Still, Eddie knows he shouldn’t project how he wishes Buck would have handled this onto Buck; he should be open, and though his chest hurts, he should be a quiet ear for Buck, hear Buck out, listen to Buck’s feelings instead of trying to guide them in his own way.

He walks toward the couch, taking a seat on the coffee table across from Buck. Buck’s got his knees drawn to his chest, making himself appear impossibly small despite being all height. It’s unsettling, the image sinking heavy in Eddie’s chest. Talk to me, Eddie thinks, asking instead, “How do you feel?”

Buck pulls his gaze up from his knees, and Eddie can’t read the dark, bordering sad, look colored against Buck’s blue eyes.

“Why are you here?”

Eddie leans back, sighing. “Your sister and I were worried about you.” He spots Buck’s phone beside him on the table, snagging it and pressing some buttons. When it doesn’t turn on, he tosses the dead phone to Buck. “And you went radio silent on us.”

“So, what? You flew here?” Buck starts, cocking his head to the side, “Because you and Maddie were worried about me?”

Eddie wants to dwell on the disbelief laced in Buck’s tone, wants to address why Buck finds it so hard to believe people worry for him. The timing, though, doesn’t feel right, so he tucks it away in mind, just for now. “Again,” Eddie repeats, nodding toward Buck’s phone. “You weren’t answering either of us, and—”

“—hey, dinner’s ready.”

Eddie jerks his gaze to see Carlos eyeing them, and before he can turn back to Buck, hoping to ease Buck into a conversation about the therapy, Buck’s already slipping off the couch and wordlessly walking into the kitchen, leaving Eddie working around a deep sigh as he eases himself up and follows.

He snags the empty seat beside Buck, frowning when Buck doesn’t offer any semblance of a reaction, and in just minutes, he’s got a plate full of food placed in front of him.

Carlos seats himself across from Eddie, eyes shifting between him, Buck, and TK.

“So, TK,” Carlos drags out, and Eddie watches as Carlos’ brows raise.

“When were you planning on telling me your LA friends were Abercrombie models?”

Judd snorts on the other side of him, and TK scoffs, rolling his eyes long enough for the rest of the table.

“Carlos,” TK groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Carlos waves his fork around, pointing it toward Buck.

“I’m just saying, this one here shows up out of nowhere, all wet and pitiful, and yet somehow still frustratingly attractive, and this one,” Carlos continues, moving his fork toward Eddie, but Eddie loses focus on the conversation.

Out of nowhere? He clings to that, leaning toward Buck and whispering, “You didn’t tell them you were coming?” Based on Buck’s eyes darting down to his plate, Eddie will take that as an alarming yes, and he adds that as just another detail that desperately needs to be re-visited when he can ease Buck into talking to him.

Somehow, dinner falls into easy banter shortly after, and Eddie takes a backseat, watching rather then joining, pleased to see that TK and Judd can pull Buck out of his slump enough to offer input, even joke a little, bringing back some of the light that’s seemingly dimmed in his eyes, but when they finish, and TK and Carlos are clearing the table, Eddie introduces the idea of a hotel, quietly to Buck, but apparently loud enough for the others to hear.

“What?” TK frowns, plates in hand. “You guys don’t have to leave. We can work out sleeping arrangements—”

“—no,” Buck interrupts, sliding to his feet. “Eddie’s right. I’ve definitely burdened you two enough—”

“—you’re not a _burden_ , Buck.”

Eddie blinks slowly, the growl coating Carlos’ tone catching him promptly off guard. There’s something there, again, that he doesn’t know but can feel, and the quiet conversation Buck shares with Carlos and TK is long, tense, and something else that Eddie just can’t pick up on.

“Look, Buck,” TK finally sighs. “Are you sure? You really aren’t bothering us at all.”

There’s an air of resolve around Buck, Eddie thinks, based on the way Buck squares his shoulders, yet, the resolve is weak and laced with uncertainties. Buck’s smile is passive, not really meeting his eyes, and Eddie focuses on that, frowning.

“I’m sure. Uh,” Buck tugs at the shirt he’s wearing. “Do you… Are my clothes dry?”

“Yeah. Yes. They’re in the dryer.” TK guides Buck out of the room, and Eddie watches, frown still tugging deep at his lips.

“You want to get your bag?” Judd asks, cutting into Eddie’s thoughts. “Move it to the jeep?” He waves his truck keys before Eddie’s face, and Eddie wordlessly nods, following Judd out of the kitchen and pausing just long enough to grab the keys to the jeep off the coffee table.

He’s quiet when he grabs his bag from Judd’s truck, his mind jumbled, unsure of what it wants to stop fully on, to address. He wants to dissect whatever’s so heavy in the air between TK, Carlos, and Buck, but he can’t work out anything other than TK and Carlos now privy to the knowledge that Buck’s in therapy.

“Are you going to talk to Buck?”

Eddie closes the door of the truck and spins around to the jeep, popping the lock. “What?”

“About the eggplant emojis,” Judd adds, cocking his head to the side. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Eddie drops his bag in the back seat of the jeep and closes the door, sighing, feeling tired for the first time since he left LA. “I really don’t know what that means.”

“Are you 80?” Judd laughs, turning back to the apartment, and Eddie has to jog a little to catch up.

“No, what does that mean? Should I not send them? They’re just,” Eddie pauses, waving one hand around, “eggplants?”

“Eggplants,” Judd parrots back, laughing quietly. He shakes his head, pausing, one hand frozen on the doorknob. “You should talk to him,” he repeats, a little more serious, and Eddie frowns.

“About the eggplants?”

Judd shrugs. “About your feelings.” He twists the doorknob, and Eddie opens his mouth to press further, to argue, but Judd cuts him off.

“And about the eggplants.”

Judd slips back inside, leaving Eddie frozen in the doorway. Feelings, Eddie thinks; he’s not the one here to discuss feelings. He’s not the one meeting regularly with a therapist because of feelings. With frustration blended with confusion centerfold in his chest, he’s reaching for his phone, prepared to put this eggplant debate to rest with a quick Google search, but then Buck’s stepping into the living room, dressed back in his own clothes, a soft pink Henley with a navy button up pulled over it and left opened, and his head’s turned to TK.

Eddie watches as TK speaks quietly to Buck. He can’t make out much for they’re keeping their voices hushed, but he does hear a small, almost pressing, “tell him,” and Buck nods at him before he’s turning to Eddie, frowning.

“You okay?”

Eddie blinks slowly, and it takes a little too long to realize he’s still rigid in the doorway. He nods stiffly and steps into the apartment, watching as TK and Carlos fuss over Buck, giving him a full bottle of aspirin and tubber ware containers of food bagged up with water and Gatorade bottles, and then Carlos is in front of Eddie, rattling off directions to a nice hotel that’s only fifteen minutes from here.

“I assume you’ll be driving,” Carlos says, and Eddie’s hands tighten around Buck’s keys.

“I can drive,” Buck tries, and Eddie’s face falls flat. He looks around Carlos.

“You can’t even stand without support,” Eddie mutters, motioning to the hand TK has on Buck’s back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be good to the jeep.”

“I’ve already called in your reservation,” Carlos adds, holding a hand up, stopping the argument hot on Eddie’s tongue. “Save it. I’m paying, and I insist. They’re pretty booked, but I managed to snag a single room with a king on the third floor.” Carlos leans in a littler closer, quieter, taking Buck being distracted by hugging TK goodbye to his advantage. “Take care of him.”

Eddie frowns, brows furrowed. “Always,” he says, voice almost a growl, matching Carlos’ tone, and Carlos nods, pulling Buck into a hug when TK’s finally willing to let go.

“I’d say don’t be a stranger, but if I find out you drove here on no sleep again, I’m not letting you in.”

Buck pulls away, laughs sheepishly. “I’ll plan better next time.” He turns to Eddie, his faint smile twitching slightly, and Eddie tilts his head to the side and tries not to focus on how much Buck’s struggling to keep a happy exterior around him.

“Ready?” He asks instead, and when Buck nods, he smooths a hand to the small of Buck’s back, guiding him to the door, pausing long enough to share a nod with Judd, a wordless thank you he knows Judd will hear.

***

_“Evan? Jesus Christ, are you okay?”_

Buck falls back against the bed, the towel wrapped around his bare shoulders falling beneath him. He cradles Eddie’s phone between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m fine, Maddie,” he draws out. He’s already heard the same conversation from Bobby; though, Bobby was a lot calmer, that being the single reason Buck chose to call him first when Eddie insisted he start making phone calls the second he walked out of the shower.

_“No, ‘fine’ is coming to your big sister when you’re hurting. ‘Fine’ isn’t driving to Texas on no sleep and not telling anyone, Evan. ‘Fine’ isn’t turning off your location, and ‘fine’ is definitely not ignoring all of my calls and texts.”_

Buck sighs into the phone. He deserves this, he thinks. He should have, for once in his life, used his brain and not relied so heavily on his heart. If he’d done that, Maddie’s voice wouldn’t be breaking over the phone. “I’m sorry, Maddie.”

_“Oh, Evan.”_

Maddie’s crying fills the other line for the longest seconds Buck’s ever felt. His own eyes burn, and he swipes at them, waiting until Maddie’s able to suck in a shaky breath.

_“When are you coming back? Are you okay? Are you safe?”_

“I’m okay,” he says, leaving off the fever, an unnecessary addition to her stress he can actually prevent. “I’m safe. We’re at a hotel. We’ll drive back tomorrow morning.” He rattles off the answers, the same answers he gave to Bobby only minutes before.

_“Good, okay. That’s good. Is Eddie going to drive? Where’s your phone? You sound really tired. Have you gotten any rest?”_

Buck mumbles responses: yes, Eddie’s going to drive, his phone’s on the charger, he’ll sleep more tonight. Once he’s finished, ending on a low breath, Maddie goes quiet, and he can practically hear the cogs in her mind shifting from here.

_“Are you okay, though? I mean, really okay?”_

Buck’s eyes drift to the bathroom door, watching the faint billows of steam filter out through the crack at the bottom. He can hear the shower turn off, and he knows that in just a few minutes, he’s going to have to talk to Eddie, to tell Eddie how he feels. In just a few minutes, he’s going to potentially ruin the single best part in his life.

“Can I rain check that question?” He asks, laughing weakly, and Maddie sucks in a sharp gasp.

_“Evan—”_

The bathroom door opens, and Buck has to pry his eyes away from Eddie’s bare, broad chest. “I gotta go, Maddie. I’m sure Eddie would like to check in on Christopher.” He pauses, frowning slightly. “I’ll text you as soon as my phone’s charged. I love you.” He ends the call, eyes following Eddie’s movements, watching as Eddie drops onto the bed beside him, laying the back of his hand to Buck’s forehead.

“I already called Carla to check on Christopher.” Eddie mutters, frowning. “You’re still really warm.” His hand moves to Buck’s collarbone, and he presses two fingers to the dip just above, counting quietly under his breath.

The breath Buck lets out is tense, shaky, and Eddie moves his hand after a moment, brows furrowing. “Your heart’s racing. Are you okay?”

Nope, Buck thinks. He’s about as far away from okay as he can possibly be while still attached to one body. Nodding anyway, he sits up and rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, just a little wound up after…” his words drift off, and he mutely motions to the phone abandoned on the side of the bed.

“Right,” Eddie drags out along a thin line of disbelief, and Buck frowns back at him, cocks his head to the side. He knows that tone, is on the receiving end of that tone too many times to count, and he narrows his eyes.

“What?”

Eddie’s face goes soft, almost, Buck thinks, a little passive, hesitant, and he watches, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Shit, Buck thinks. He hasn’t had time to prepare fully. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, how he should say it. Will Eddie hate him? How could he not, Buck thinks. How could Eddie not fully despise him once he tells him that he’s felt more for him than he’s ever felt for anyone before?

“Look, Buck. I already know, okay?”

This… Buck does not expect those words in the slightest, and he can physically feel the blood drain from his face. His body grows rigid under the weight of Eddie’s words, and for a moment, he can only mutely open and close his mouth, chasing lost thoughts.

“You know,” he starts finally, voice weak and hardly above a whisper, “that I’m in love with you?” he finishes at the exact time Eddie replies, “that you’re in therapy?”

_“What?”_

Buck eyes pool with tears, and he slips to his feet and wordlessly walks to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He sinks to the floor, back to the door, Eddie’s blank face etched like an angry stain in his mind, and then he cries freely, too tired to keep it bottled in and quiet. His chest heaves around gasping sobs, and he draws his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly, trying so hard to keep his body whole when it’s cracking at the edges.

He fucked up. No, he shakes his head. He’s a fuck up. He always has been, always disappointing everyone around him, always ruining everything.

He jumps when there’s a knock on the door, quick and quiet.

“Buck?”

No, Buck thinks. Eddie’s voice sounds professional, just as it does when he’s talking someone down on a call, and he’s not… Buck sucks in a sharp gasp, one that splinters in his lungs, and then he hears a low thump, and Eddie’s voice is more level with him this time, closer.

“Buck, I… I don’t know what to say.”

Eddie’s voice is softer, almost pained, Buck thinks, a very clear pitch showing that he’s out of his element, and Buck would give anything to go back to a few minutes before and just shut the hell up for once in his life.

“Tell me,” he starts, voice cracking, “that I didn’t just ruin everything.”

He can hear shifting on the other side of the door, and then the handle’s twisting.

“Buck, open the door.”

The demand in Eddie’s tone is enough to have Buck climbing to his feet and popping the lock. He pulls the door open, and then Eddie’s against him, embracing him tight enough it hurts, and Buck remains stiff, his hands tight at his sides, and he sniffles quietly, hot tears leaving tracks down his cheeks.

“There isn’t a single thing you can do or say that would ruin anything for me,” Eddie says, pulling away. “For us.”

Buck steps back, swipes the back of his hand over his eyes. “You mean, after everything I’ve done—losing Christopher in a tsunami, suing you, and then confessing years’ worth of feelings to you in a single sentence—you still don’t hate me?” He ends on a small, nervous laugh, and Eddie’s shakes his head quickly.

“No. You… You’re my best friend, Buck. But, I’m not… I don’t—”

“—it’s okay,” Buck says, shaking his head. “I don’t expect you to. I just… I had to tell you.”

Eddie grabs Buck’s hand and pulls him back to the bed, and Buck moves listlessly with Eddie’s movements, sitting on the edge of the bed when Eddie pushes gently down on his shoulder.

“Is this why you came here? Maddie and I thought… Because of your therapy…”

Buck watches as Eddie drops heavily onto the bed beside him, follows Eddie’s movements with heavy-lidded eyes as Eddie drags his hands down his face. He chooses not to spark the flame of a new argument that Maddie’s been discussing his personal issues with Eddie without his knowledge, instead opening himself up to Eddie like he should have done long before.

“My therapist is encouraging me to be more open with people.”

Eddie drops his hands at this, frowning. “So, you came all the way here to open up to people you barely know? Why not Maddie? Hell, you could have talked to Hen about this.”

“It’s easier to open up to someone who’s not too invested in you yet.”

“Okay,” Eddie mutters cautiously. “Do you think you’re gay?”

Buck shakes his head. “I don’t know. I like both men and women, I think.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeats, nodding, more to himself. “How long have you been… How long have you known… about me?”

For a moment, Buck only watches Eddie’s hands smoothing lines up and down his bare thighs, but then Eddie pauses, and Buck can feel Eddie’s gaze heavy against him. He sighs and falls back against the bed, draping one arm across his eyes.

He can’t pinpoint a single moment where he knew for sure; it’s more a series of moments going back to when he first met Eddie, when his outward aggravation toward Eddie was simply a projection to mask his inward insecurity about himself, about his looks compared to the golden, seemingly chiseled, looks of one Eddie Diaz. But, somewhere in between finding Eddie to be the single most attractive man he’s ever laid his eyes on, Eddie unknowingly helped him work through his inner turmoil. In fact, Buck thinks, Eddie forced his way into Buck’s heart, and he’s stayed ever since.

“Buck?”

“I think I’ve always known,” Buck says, voice just short of a whisper, and Eddie pulls himself up further onto the bed and tugs at Buck’s arm, moving it away from Buck’s eyes.

Buck can’t get a clear read on Eddie, which is only making this entire situation he’s put the two in worse. “I made us weird,” he mutters, and of all things, Eddie laughs at this, loud, almost relieved, and he flops onto his back just as Buck pushes himself up on one elbow, frowning.

“Buck, we’re always weird.”

“Eddie, I—”

“—it’s okay, Buck.” He slides his gaze from the ceiling to meet Buck’s eyes. “Besides, who wouldn’t be attracted to all of this?” He runs his hands down his bare chest, and Buck grabs the nearest pillow and slams it into Eddie’s face.

Eddie fights back, too quick for his own good, and for a few minutes, the tension breaks against flying pillows and fits of giggles, everything falling into a brief sense of normalcy, but then Buck’s calling timeout around clenched teeth, and he’s dropping onto his back and pushing his palms into his eyes, his temples throbbing.

“Shit, your head. Are you okay?”

Buck hums absently, and he sits up, blinking slowly. “I can take the floor—”

“—what?” Eddie shakes his head, groaning. “God, Buck. Don’t be stupid. Come on.” He ushers Buck off the bed and pulls the blankets and sheets back. “Get in. You’re shaking.”

“Eddie, I—”

“—it’s only weird if you make it weird, Buck. Now, get in the damn bed. The last thing I’m ever going to do is make you sleep on the floor, especially when you’re still running a fever.”

Buck hesitates; he’s shared a bed with Eddie countless times, and yet, this feels monumentally different, a bad type of milestone, almost as if he’s sealing the deal to a life of public, one-sided pining. Still, Eddie’s face is as open and inviting as always, his patience unmasked and prominently clear, and Buck clings to this as he slides back onto the bed, sighing lowly when Eddie pulls the blankets up and over him.

He’s still when Eddie leaves just long enough to plug up his phone and cut the lights out, and when Eddie climbs back in, he holds his breath in his lungs, swollen around his heart.

“Will you talk to me, Buck?” Eddie asks after a few minutes of heavy silence that’s pressing down atop Buck.

“Right now?” Buck asks, voice stiff, and Eddie laughs quietly beside him.

“No, just… In general, will you talk to me? About therapy? About how you’re feeling? Just… I… Promise me you won’t shut me out.”

Buck doesn’t think he can make a promise like that, not anymore, but he nods anyway, muttering a small “okay.”

***

Eddie’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles fading to white. Buck’s been off since they woke up, quiet, too passive in what little words he’s been willing to offer, and though his fever’s mostly gone, just a slightly raised temperature still hanging on, he spent the morning walking around almost in a haze, and Eddie’s worried.

He’s not sure how much he needs to assure Buck that no matter what, they will always be best friends, that Buck’s late-night confession, one that hit Eddie hard enough to steal his breath, didn’t ruin everything. If anything, Buck’s the one now making things awkward between them, with the silence, the moping—it’s driving Eddie up a wall.

A part of him, the bigger part, wants to fix this somehow. Maybe, he thinks, he could have been better with his words last night, but he was caught so unbelievably off guard, he couldn’t even begin to wrap his thoughts into some semblance of comforting sentences. It wasn’t until Buck’s eyes welled up before him right before he locked himself in the bathroom that Eddie was able to fully comprehend Buck’s words.

Love, he thinks. Buck didn’t say “like.” He said “love,” and Eddie ponders this, has been all night and all morning honestly. His sleep had been fitful, yet he still woke wrapped around Buck. It wasn’t the first time he woke spooning his best friend, but it is the first time he’s dwelled on it long after.

It felt, at the time, right, Eddie thinks. Having Buck flush against his chest felt alarmingly right, which is just what Eddie needed after being succumbed in a veil of wrong ever since Buck left for Texas. That should be weird, he thinks. Right? He shouldn’t feel so comfortable being bare-chest and warm against his best friend, right?

His eyes drift over to Buck, who’s curled up in the passenger seat, his knees once again drawn to his chest. Eddie hates how small it makes Buck look. Buck’s not small, not outwardly or inwardly. His personality’s big enough to fill the entire 118, and he’s definitely got a few inches on Eddie. He brings his eyes back to the road, sighing lowly under his breath.

He needs to fix this. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to see Buck smile again, a real, genuine smile, not one of his television smiles he puts on for show. No, Eddie wants see Buck smile the way he smiles at Christopher whenever they pick Christopher up from school. He wants to see Buck smile the way he does so when he saves someone on a call. He wants to see Buck smile the way he does when he talks about being an uncle. He wants to see Buck smile the way he does when Bobby tells him how proud he is of him. He wants to see Buck smile the way he does during their movie nights, when their back and forth banter gets to be too much and he caves and falls into a fit of laughter.

The pang ringing across Eddie’s chest is abrupt, overwhelming, and faintly familiar, and in a spur of the moment, where he allows his heart to guide his thoughts, he flicks the blinker on and jerks the jeep over multiple lanes until he’s easing the jeep onto the shoulder.

“Eddie, what the hell? I said be easy with the jeep!”

“Get out of the car.”

_“What?”_

Eddie’s quick in his movements, working around budding adrenaline, and he leans over and opens the passenger door. “Out,” he repeats, tone clipped, and Buck undoes his seatbelt and slips out of the car, frowning.

Eddie’s mutely thankful for the early morning hour for the traffic’s sparce. He slips out of the jeep when it’s safe, and rounds it, stopping briefly to stare at the state line sign just a few feet in front of them. They’re still in Texas, he thinks. After all of this, they have yet to leave this massive state.

“Eddie.”

Eddie breaks his gaze, bringing it to Buck, to Buck’s wide, impossibly blue, eyes, to the frown stretched low across his lips.

“What are you—”

“—shut up,” Eddie interrupts. He steps forward, and Buck takes a hesitant step backward, his back hitting the jeep. “I want to try something.”

“On the shoulder of an interstate—”

Eddie leans forward and slams his lips to Buck’s, cutting Buck off mid-sentence. He feels the same, overwhelming feeling of right in this moment that he felt waking up with Buck warm against him, in any moment when Buck’s at his side.

Buck’s lips are soft on his, and Eddie slips one hand to the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him in closer, drinking Buck in until Buck, stiff before him, finally relaxes, his lips parting into the kiss.

It feels, Eddie thinks, similar to a lock clicking, or maybe like one of the weird ASMR videos Buck makes him watch. It’s satisfying and something he wasn’t aware he needed until this exact moment, at one edge of Texas, with cars whizzing by them.

When a car honks, followed by loud cheers out a window, Eddie breaks the kiss, stepping back, brows furrowed, his lips warm and tingling. He stares at Buck, and Buck falls heavily against the jeep, panting.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I can’t breathe.” Buck slams a hand to his chest, and Eddie watches the quick rise and fall.

“You think?”

“What was _that_?”

The million-dollar question, Eddie thinks. He’s not sure when Buck crossed the best friend line for him. He can’t pinpoint an exact time; Buck’s just always been there, always on his mind, even when he shouldn’t have been. It’s just always been Buck, always Buck and Eddie, so much that other members of the 118 found it odd if they weren’t together. Two characters penned into the same novel, both working toward the same conclusion.

“That,” Eddie starts, “was something I think I’ve always known.”

Buck’s face lights up, so warm and bright, and then he’s pushing himself off the jeep and kissing Eddie once more in earnest.

Buck’s hands slide across Eddie’s back, and Eddie shudders when Buck’s thumb slips under his shirt. He melts into the kiss, neck craning now that Buck’s back to his full height before him.

“I’m finally,” Buck starts, breathless against Eddie’s lips, “going to be able to take the eggplant emojis seriously now.”

Eddie steps back, breaking the kiss, and Buck pouts.

“What?” Eddie asks quickly. “What do they mean? What’s this big, secret eggplant emoji meaning that everyone knows except me? It’s a fruit.”

Buck’s smiling before him, his lips pressed together, no doubt holding back laughter. “A fruit shaped as?” Buck guides Eddie, motions a little with his hands, and Eddie’s face heats up a blaring red, the realization hitting him hard and fast, and he drops his forehead to Buck’s shoulder as Buck’s laughing echoes around them.

“Why did no one tell me?” Eddie groans. “I sent those to everyone!”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Eddie lifts his head, giggling, a blush still hot against his cheeks, and Buck cups one cheek. He looks, Eddie thinks, happy, very, truthfully happy, and Eddie doesn’t want Buck any other way.

“Is this… Are we a thing?”

Smiling, Eddie nods. “I think we’re a thing.”

“Who should we tell first?” Buck asks, giddy before Eddie. “Maddie? No, we should tell Bobby in case this is some weird, HR thing.”

“Or,” Eddie drags out, slipping his phone from his pocket, and Buck practically beams before him.

“Christopher,” Buck breathes out, and Eddie nods, flipping through his contacts.

“We tell Christopher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was today years old when I learned that an eggplant is a fruit? What a plot twist that was. 
> 
> You know how sometimes during the credits of a movie, they show little snapshots that would essenitally fall into an epilogue? Here's a list of some stuff I didn't include into the fic, but that would directly follow the fic. 
> 
> \- Christopher is absolutely over the moon when Eddie pitches the idea that he's dating Buck  
> \- Carla is very SMUG in the background of this conversation  
> \- The only person of the 118 who is surprised is Chimney  
> \- Maddie's probably the least surprised and yet the most thankful that her brother's finally found someone who thinks the world of him, as he deserves to have  
> \- Buck and Eddie vow to take yearly road trips back to Texas to visit with the 126, and they're already planning the next one so they can take Christopher  
> \- Buck changes Eddie's name in his phone to "E🍆🍆ie"

**Author's Note:**

> i'm ready to make my own dang canon 
> 
> Come say hi or drop a prompt off on tumblr! (@toosicktoocare)


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